


Ladies and Gentlemen of Flight XF300...

by Selenay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, These dorks are so bad at flirting, delayed flights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Phil's flight is delayed, it looks like he'll be spending a miserable evening in the airport. Pre-Christmas flight delays are the worst kind.</p>
<p>Except there's a passenger across the aisle with a grumpy resting face, who might just make this delay worth every minute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ladies and Gentlemen of Flight XF300...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to the fabulous Chaneen for last minute beta duties and de-Britishing my dialogue.
> 
> This fic was started this summer, sitting at my gate, listening to the flight attendant explain the many reasons why were were all still sitting at our gate instead of on a plane. Some events in this fic are based on real life. All the fun bits came from my imagination.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone!

_"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. Passengers on flight XF300 to London Heathrow, the flight is experiencing a delay and will now be departing at eleven forty-five. That is 2345 hours. We apologise for the delay, this is due to mechanical issues. Again, flight XF300 to London Heathrow, scheduled to depart at ten forty-five, will now be departing at eleven forty-five. Thank you"_

A collective groan went up among the people gathered at gate twenty-two, and Phil couldn't help adding his voice to it. He wasn't going to get into London until late morning at this rate, and he'd been hoping to get some sleep before the rehearsal dinner. Around him, people pulled out phones and began texting or calling, probably alerting whoever was waiting for them at the other end that they were going to be at least an hour late. Delayed flights around Christmas were more hellish than at any other time.

Phil didn't bother. He'd been planning to take the Tube. He didn't need to let the Piccadilly line know that he was running late.

The guy sitting opposite him didn't bother, either, even though Phil had noticed him tapping on his phone furiously earlier.

Phil had been trying very hard not to notice, but the guy drew his eyes. Messy hair, strong jaw, eyes that seemed to change colour each time Phil looked. If he hadn't been scowling so hard at everything, Phil might have tried smiling at him.

The guy frowned down at the book he was reading. It was by James Patterson, but it wasn't that bad. Phil had read it last year and he hadn't wanted to burn it at any stage.

It looked like the guy was trying to set the book on fire with his mind.

Phil dug into his backpack and pulled out the new Brandon Sanderson he'd treated himself to on the way to the airport. At least he wouldn't run out of book, no matter how late the flight ended up leaving.

***

_"Passengers for flight XF300 to London Heathrow, the flight is experiencing a further delay and will now depart at fifteen minutes past midnight. We apologise for the inconvenience. The mechanics are waiting for a part. Again, flight XF300 to London Heathrow, scheduled for ten forty-five, will now depart at fifteen minutes past midnight. Thank you."_

The woman at the gate desk put the phone down, smiling apologetically at the passengers gathered around gate twenty-two. Her reindeer antlers were beginning to look slightly wilted. Another wave of phones came out around the departure area, frantic messages pinging through the ether.

Across from Phil, The Guy pulled out his phone and began tapping, scowling down at the screen.

He was tapping too fast, and too randomly, for it to be a message. Phil stood up and casually stretched his back, just happening to peer over the top of the phone.

Angry Birds. Huh.

The Guy looked up and his scowl softened slightly, into something that only looked murderous instead of setting-things-on-fire-with-his-mind fury. Phil wondered what he looked like when he smiled.

Then he wondered if he'd been staring for too long.

Yes, he'd definitely been staring too long. Way too long. He should say something.

Something funny. Smart. A joke about Angry Birds. No, wait, that would make it too obvious that he'd been looking at The Guy's phone. Something about the Patterson. Yes. He could make a comment about the main character...fuck, what was his name?

"Is that any good?" The Guy asked.

Phil blinked. A moment passed. A long, confused moment.

"Sorry," The Guy muttered, sinking down a little in his chair. "Didn't mean to pry."

"No!" Phil said. His voice was definitely too loud. And way too high. He cleared his throat and tried to modulate it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

The Guy perked up a little. His expression edged towards only-slightly-violent. "The book. Sanderson. Is it good?"

"Oh, that." Phil shrugged. "I don't know. I've just started it. The first chapter is good."

"He started well, then. Guess you'll have to read and find out whether or not he stuck the landing."

"It looks like I've got plenty of time for it."

The Guy chuckled. "Looks like. I'm Clint, by the way."

"Phil."

Clint's hand was strong, the skin a little rough, and Phil had to remind himself not to be weird and release it after the appropriate five seconds.

"Nice to meet you," Clint said.

Phil smiled, and they both returned to their books by silent accord.

***

_"Passengers for flight XF300 to London Heathrow, we are now estimating a one AM departure. The part has arrived and the mechanics are installing it. We will need to run some tests afterwards and we will announce a boarding time when that has been completed. Thank you for your patience. Again, flight XF300 to London Heathrow, scheduled for ten forty-five, will now depart at one AM."_

Phil stretched his neck, staring up at the ceiling. All the restaurants had shut down half an hour ago, even the coffee shop that advertised it stayed open until the last flight took off. Apparently it only stayed open until the last fight's scheduled departure time, which was a very different thing.

He could really use about a gallon of coffee right now, if he was going to need to stay awake for much longer.

"At least they haven't cancelled it yet," Clint said.

Phil lowered his head. Clint was watching him with an expression that was only slightly grumpy, which was kind of nice. It wasn't a smile, but it wasn't murder-death-glare, which was definitely a sign of something.

Not that Phil was looking for signs. Signs of anything. Nope.

The laughter in his head sounded a lot like his boss's.

He should say something. Clint had said something and now Phil needed to respond. That was the way conversations worked. Phil was aware that he probably wasn't as sharp as he should be right now, which was why the silence was starting to stretch out awkwardly and, oh crap, was he turning into one of those guys who didn't know how to hold a normal conversation?

He was. He didn't know what to say. He'd forgotten what Clint had said.

"Long day?" Clint asked.

Phil nodded, relieved. "I had an early, ah, meeting."

"I know those days," Clint said. "We should have bought coffee before that last place closed."

Phil refused to read anything into the "we" part of that comment. "I was just thinking the same thing."

A smile lit up Clint's face. The expression was so unexpected that Phil could only gape at him. It transformed Clint's slightly murderous glare into something else; something that warmed Phil's skin from across the aisle and made him want to see it again.

"Think they'll find some coffee when we get on the plane?" Clint asked.

"We can hope," Phil said. "Although at least we'll be able to sleep when we get on, so maybe not."

"Mm, sleep."

The warm rumble in Clint's voice did unexpected things to Phil's breathing and heart rate. His ears heated.

It was the only reason he had for saying, "Sleep is a good thing."

Which was, maybe, the most pathetic comment he'd made so far this evening. His flirting game was terrible. Non-existent. Worse than non-existent.

Flirting? Was that what they were doing?

Clint chuckled. "Sleep can be a very good thing. In the right place at the right time."

"Are airplanes the right place and time?"

"That depends a lot on..." Clint trailed away, looking awkward for the first time. He scratched the back of his neck. After a long pause where Phil forgot to breathe, Clint shrugged and said, "That depends on how good your book is."

Phil looked down at the book beside his seat. "It's pretty good."

"Then maybe you need to find a less good book to sleep with." Clint frowned, his lips twisting into an odd shape. It was half a step down from full murder glare. "That came out wrong."

"I know what you meant," Phil said, sitting down and picking up his book.

"Good thing one of us does," Clint muttered, before shooting Phil an embarrassed look and hiding behind his Patterson again.

***

_"Passengers for flight XF300 to London Heathrow, we are now estimating a two AM departure. The mechanics have begun their tests, but this could take a few more minutes. We will begin boarding as soon as they confirm the plane is ready. We apologise for the delays. Again, flight XF300 to London Heathrow, scheduled for ten forty-five, will now depart at two AM."_

The woman at the gate desk smiled as she hung up, but it was strained and awkward. Her reindeer antlers were definitely drooping now, reflecting the atmosphere around the gate. The rush to send texts was slower this time, as though everyone had started to realise that the estimated departure times weren't going to stick.

Across the aisle, Clint tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. Or, maybe, to kill a few lights with the power of his scowl. Maybe he could focus it on the sound system, which was now on its fifth round of the same twelve Christmas songs.

"Is anyone waiting for you at the other end?" Phil asked, marking his place in his book with his thumb.

Clint shook his head and tilted it one way and then the other, stretching out the kinks. "It's a work trip, but my meeting isn't until Thursday. I was only planning some sightseeing."

Phil did the calculations in his head. "You're flying out for a meeting on Christmas Eve?"

"Yup."

"And you fly home--"

"Day after Christmas. Weirdly, they couldn't get me a flight on Christmas Eve."

A crooked grin almost charmed Phil into not noticing the implications of that.

"You're going to be alone in London on Christmas?"

"I've got a nice hotel and they've promised me a Christmas lunch. It'll be fine." Clint tilted his head. "England does turkey, right?"

"As far as I know."

"This is your first Christmas trip there?"

"I'm going to a wedding. On Christmas Eve."

Clint's chuckle sent a warm thrill down Phil's spine. The exhaustion was clearly getting to him, if a stranger's rusty laughter could make him feel that.

"Guess we're both stranded in England for Christmas," Clint said.

Phil shrugged. "My friends are hosting a big Christmas lunch, to apologise for dragging everyone across the world for their wedding. It might be fun, if we ever get there."

Clint sighed. "Think this flight is actually going anywhere tonight?"

"We can only hope."

A couple of rows away, two children erupted into loud sobs, and Phil winced. The volume of the crying rose, and a frazzled-looking woman stood up, waving at the airline staff huddled around the gate desk. One uniformed man hurried over and began conferring with her, as her children cried louder and another joined in, and everyone at the gate tried to pretend they weren't watching.

Phil sent Clint a tired smile and lifted his book. Clint nodded and returned to his. There was no point trying to talk over that racket.

***

A squeal of feedback made Phil wince and Clint looked like a startled cat. It was unexpectedly charming.

It was the only charming thing to happen. The woman in reindeer antlers looked ready to cry as she made her announcement. "Passengers for flight XF300 to London Heathrow, we are sorry to announce that tonight's flight has been cancelled." A chorus of groans and disappointed curses filled the gate area, but she soldiered on. "The mechanics have been unable to complete their repairs, and we have no spare aircraft at this time. An extra flight will be added to the schedule tomorrow evening at seven PM. We will be giving out leaflets with the numbers you will need to call to book that flight, but it will not be available for booking until the morning."

It was well after three, but Phil supposed that it didn't feel like morning to anyone. Mornings implied having had some sleep.

"Hotel vouchers are available for anyone whose journey did not originate here and we'll assist you in finding a room, over at gate 24. Airport staff will shortly begin reopening the exits and your luggage will be at the domestic arrivals carousels downstairs. Once again, if your journey didn't originate here, go to gate 24 to arrange hotel rooms and vouchers. We apologise for the delays, and will do our best to get you all to your destinations as soon as possible."

She hung up and bolted for a "staff only" door, which Phil thought was only fair. There were a few passengers shooting murderous looks in her direction.

Clint was looking murderous, but that seemed to be his default expression, so Phil didn't take it seriously.

"Do you need to get vouchers?" Clint asked.

Phil shook his head. "I won't qualify."

"Me neither." Clint hesitated. "Are you going to try to get a hotel room anyway?"

The queue at gate 24 was already heaving, and the airline staff looked apprehensive. There probably wouldn't be a room available by the time they got their luggage and trekked over to the nearest hotel, and Phil doubted there would be a taxi available to carry them to anything further away for at least a couple of hours.

"It's worth a try," Phil said. "They might let us wait in their lobby if there's nothing left."

"I'll walk over with you," Clint said. "If you don't mind…"

"I don't mind." Phil hesitated, before adding, "I'd like the company."

A shy smile curved the corners of Clint's mouth, banishing his usual scowl completely. It was such an unexpected expression that Phil's breath caught in his throat.

Maybe the cancelled flight wasn't all bad. Who needed to rehearse a wedding, anyway? As long as he didn't trip when he walked Daisy down the aisle, it couldn't be that complicated.

***

There were no rooms in the hotel, but the staff had been infected with the spirit of Christmas--or maybe the exhaustion of the late hour--and were giving out pillows and blankets to anyone who wanted to bed down in the lobby. A few passengers had already commandeered a nest of couches in one corner, but Phil was able to grab a couple of chairs and a coffee table while Clint stood in the line for pillows and blankets. It wasn't much, but it was more comfortable than the floor, and there had been a few flakes of snow drifting through the air when they walked over.

Going back to the city and getting stuck there if the snow closed the roads wouldn't get anyone closer to their destination. At least the airport would keep flights running for as long as they could, regardless of whether passengers could get there for them.

Clint returned with a pile of pillows and blankets, his face set in another murderous scowl that softened into an exhausted smile when he saw the chairs.

"Apparently we're competing for space with two other cancelled flights," Clint said. "Newfoundland is fogged in, so they're all stuck here with us."

Phil grabbed the pillows and began using them, with a couple of cushions, to make the chairs and table into nests that might allow them to sleep for a few hours. It was a tough job, but he'd made comfortable sleeping places out of less promising beginnings. "In my experience, at least one airport in Newfoundland is always fogged in."

"You travel a lot, then?"

"For work, yes. You?"

"Yeah." Clint shrugged. "Travel karma had to catch up some day, right? This is my first cancelled flight."

Phil stepped back to admire his handiwork with the chairs. It would do. "This isn't my first, but I've never had such good company before."

He closed his mouth with a snap, almost biting his tongue, but the words had escaped. It was the exhaustion talking. He didn't usually get sentimental about people he'd just met, and he definitely didn't let his mouth run away like that.

Clint's shy smile slowly reappeared, and Phil could breathe again.

"We should try to get some sleep," Phil said. "They'll probably have the flight ready for booking in a couple of hours."

"Sleep sounds great," Clint said. "Really, really...great."

The chairs weren't ideal, but the pillows and cushions were almost comfortable, and the blankets kept the chill off. It was better than sitting in the airport, at least, and Phil had done that enough times to know the difference. He settled down, trying not to accidentally elbow Clint in the head as he shifted around until he was comfortable. Next to him, Clint seemed to find the right position almost immediately, and his eyes drifted shut long before sleep crept up on Phil.

Or at least, long before Phil allowed it to claim him. He kept sneaking glances of at Clint, because sleep smoothed the murderous resting expression out into something softer. Contentment, with a hint of a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.

Phil was watching that face when he finally drifted away into dream time.

***

The lobby was quiet when Phil woke. It looked more like a slumber party than a hotel lobby, and hotel staff were tiptoeing around the sleeping bodies as they went about their duties. From his position in the corner, Phil could just see part of one front door, where fat snowflakes were drifting down from a steel grey sky.

He winced as he turned his head, his neck protesting at the movement, but the pain disappeared as soon as his gaze met Clint's. The warmth in Clint's blue eyes made the breath catch in his throat, and Phil couldn't restrain the smile that escaped his control.

If they hadn't been in the middle of a hotel lobby, he might have taken a chance and tried for a kiss. Maybe.

Or maybe not. He'd never been good at spontaneity in this kind of situation.

Clint's gaze flicked down for a fraction of a second, and Phil tried to tell himself that Clint hadn't looked at his lips.

A metallic crash broke the moment, and Phil almost jumped out of his skin. Sleepy protests echoed around the lobby as heads rose and people began to wake up. A blushing waitress retreated to the restaurant, carrying the tray she'd dropped in front of her like a shield.

"I guess we should call about rebooking our flights," Clint said.

Was there a hint of reluctance in his tone?"

Phil nodded. "That would be a good plan. And then we can try to get some breakfast."

"Mmm, breakfast." Clint's voice sounded rough from sleep. "I smell bacon. And coffee."

"Flights, breakfast, and clean clothes." Phil sat up and stifled a small groan as his back protested. "And maybe a walk."

"Sounds good." Clint sat up without any sign of difficulty. "Think we'll get out of here today?"

"I hope we do."

A flash of disappointment, quickly hidden, sent a surge of hope flooding through Phil. Maybe he wasn't imagining the signs of interest.

He took a careful breath. "If we make it to England, maybe you should give me a contact number. There's going to be more than enough turkey on Christmas Day. You could join us."

Clint blinked. Twice. "I could?"

"I'd like that. Very much." Phil's mouth felt too dry and his throat kept trying to close up on the words, but he forged on. "If you're not fed up with the sight of me by the time we get there, that is. I'd like to see you again."

If Clint's shy smile had made Phil's breath catch, the wide, delighted smile he now wore made Phil's feel too tight and his heart skip a beat. It was beautiful. Unexpected and charming, and perfect in its imperfect crookedness.

Phil wished he could kiss Clint right there, in the lobby, but there were too many people around. Clint took his hand, though, and stroked his thumb over Phil's knuckles slowly, and it was almost as good as a kiss.

***

_"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. Passengers on flight XF300A to London Heathrow, departing at seven PM. The flight is experiencing a delay due to the weather in Montreal. We anticipate a new departure time of eight PM. We apologise for the delay and we promise that you will be going to London tonight. Again, flight XF300A to London Heathrow, scheduled to depart at seven PM, will now be departing...later than scheduled, but I swear to everything holy that we will get you to London. Thank you."_

Phil glanced up from his book. Opposite him, Clint was trying to burn a hole in the page of his new book—his own copy of the Sanderson that Phil was now halfway through—but he looked up when he sensed Phil's eyes on him.

They exchanged smiles.

Phil's phone buzzed and a text flashed up on the screen.

_"Wanna make out behind the gift shop while we wait?"_

Maybe another delay wasn't going to be so bad.


End file.
